Chapter 2: The First Day
1088 Words
Chapter Two
Peter—the new kid I’d met by the lockers—stood a few feet away, turning a crumpled school map over in his hands like it might eventually reveal its secrets. His brow furrowed deeper with every passing student, shoulders slumped beneath the weight of an overstuffed backpack.
“Lost already?” I teased lightly, adjusting the strap of my own bag.
He looked up, sandy hair falling into warm brown eyes that widened with relief. “Completely. You’re Lena, right? Thanks again—for earlier.”
“Tour still stands,” I said, falling into step beside him as we merged into the flow of students.
The halls of Black Hollow High hummed with noise—locker doors screeching open, laughter bouncing off brick walls, the low buzz of fluorescent lights overhead. I pointed out classrooms, the gym, the library. Familiar landmarks in a building that felt older than it should be, its worn banners and faded plaques quietly guarding decades of forgotten stories.
“So… Black Hollow,” Peter said, glancing around. “Creepy name. The town live up to it?”
I let out a soft laugh. “Worse. Old families. Ghost stories. Legends people whisper about but never really explain. You get used to it.”
He grinned. “You’re not exactly selling it—but I’m intrigued.” He hesitated, shifting the map in his hands. “You’ve lived here your whole life?”
“Yeah.” My smile faltered despite myself. “Since I was a kid.”
He waited, sensing there was more.
“My dad died when I was ten,” I added quietly. “Accident at Hawke’s Lake.”
Peter’s expression softened instantly, the teasing ease falling away. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago,” I said, even though the words felt thin. Black Hollow had a way of never letting the past stay buried. “Guess the town kind of… grows into you after that. Or you grow into it.”
He nodded slowly. “That explains why it feels different here. Like everyone knows something you don’t.”
A chill traced my spine—not from the hallway air, but from how close that felt to the truth.
As we turned the corner, I felt it before I saw him.
Dean Edwards leaned against his locker, one foot propped casually against the wall. Dark hair, slightly tousled. Broad shoulders beneath his varsity jacket. When his blue eyes lifted and caught mine, everything else faded.
The cemetery.
The way he’d looked at me earlier—like he’d wanted to say something and thought better of it.
Our gazes locked. The moment stretched, taut and electric.
“Friend of yours?” Peter asked quietly.
“Not exactly,” I muttered, heart racing.
Dean’s expression gave nothing away. After a beat, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Peter whistled softly. “Okay. Black Hollow just got more interesting.”
I smiled faintly but didn’t respond.
Dean was the town’s golden boy—the star quarterback, the one teachers praised and girls whispered about. His family name carried weight here. Old money. Respected. Untouchable. He’d been that way long before high school.
When my dad died, Dean had tried—awkwardly—to be kind. Small gestures. Quiet words. I’d been angry then, raw with grief, and I’d pushed him away in the worst way possible. Humiliated him in front of everyone.
We hadn’t really spoken since.
Now he was still perfect, still admired—and still with Lily. Blonde, beautiful, head cheerleader. Black Hollow royalty. Watching them together stirred a familiar ache I pretended not to feel.
“Hey,” Peter said gently. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “Come on. History’s this way.”
We climbed the stairs to the second floor. The air smelled faintly of old books and industrial cleaner, paint peeling along the walls like the building was shedding its skin.
The classroom buzzed with anticipation as we took our seats.
“I heard the old history teacher quit over the summer,” a girl whispered behind me.
“Didn’t quit—vanished,” someone corrected.
“Maybe the curse got him,” another joked, laughter following.
“Did you hear who the new one is?”
“Someone from out of town. Super private.”
“I heard he’s from the mountains—those Draven people.”
“Old money. Weird estate up near the ridge.”
“What does he look like?”
“Probably ancient.”
The door creaked open.
Silence fell instantly.
Mr. Cole Draven stepped inside.
The air shifted—thickened, charged.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, moving with a controlled grace that made my pulse spike. Dark hair curled slightly at the edges, framing sharp, striking features. His eyes—emerald green, flecked with gold—seemed almost too bright beneath the classroom lights.
My breath caught.
It was him.
Not exactly—but close enough to make my skin prickle.
The man from my dreams.
His gaze swept the room, pausing when it landed on me.
“Good morning” he said, voice low and smooth, carrying something beneath it that sent a shiver down my spine.
Whispers exploded around me.
“Oh my God.”
“He’s gorgeous.”
“Is he even old enough to teach?”
“Those eyes—are they real?”
“Draven? Like the estate by the ridge?”
“I heard his family owns half the mountain.”
Peter leaned closer. “He’s… intense.”
“Yeah,” I breathed, unable to look away.
Cole turned to the board and wrote his name in clean, deliberate strokes. Every movement felt precise—controlled, powerful, wrong somehow, like he didn’t quite belong here.
The lesson began, but my focus fractured.
The forest.
The lake.
Teeth at my throat.
Cole spoke with effortless authority, weaving history into something vivid and compelling—but his eyes found me again and again. Studying. Searching.
A few rows back, Dean shifted in his seat, attention flickering between me and Cole. Lily leaned into him, whispering animatedly to her friends, casting curious glances toward the front of the room.
By the time the bell rang, my pulse still hadn’t slowed.
As students filed out, Cole’s gaze met mine one last time—familiar, knowing—before he turned away.
I exhaled shakily.
Black Hollow High had always been strange.
But this year felt different.
- Writer
